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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26728888">daffodil</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/personwrites/pseuds/personwrites'>personwrites</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>EreRi Collection [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alive Canonically Deceased Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dominance, Drabble Sequence, Elemental Magic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Freeform - EreRi, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M, Moral Dilemma, Mutual Pining, Parallel Universes, Rated for TBA Chapter(s), References to Depression, Romantic Friendship, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Submission, Supernatural Elements, Worldbuilding</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 09:20:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,035</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26728888</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/personwrites/pseuds/personwrites</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <br/>
  <i>daf•fo•dil (n.)</i>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <i><strong>symbolism</strong> – <a href="https://www.proflowers.com/blog/march-birth-flower">t</a>he daffodil flower represents new beginnings, renewal and resilience because it regenerates and grows every spring.</i>
    <br/>
  </p>
</blockquote><br/><br/> Life ebbed out his eyes, once bold alike the raging tropics during a storm, like waves from the shore. They leave behind only foam as they shift glossy and still. And then the stars collided. Echoes of mercy swirling among the twilight, tunneling down the cosmos. Reborn into something new, something familiar.<br/><br/> He opened anew to the young morning sky, gaze ablaze as the midday sun, like daffodil in the spring after the last frost of winter's eventide. And before him met grey. Mysterious abalone, fragile and lone.<br/><br/> He would take time to figure that mystery out.<br/><br/><br/><br/>[ canonverse au where eren is revived  as a celestial into a parallel universe in which titans and the great war never existed ]<br/>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eren Yeager/Levi Ackerman, Mentioned: Mikasa Ackerman/Annie Leonhart | Erwin Smith/Hange Zoë | Furlan Church/Levi Ackerman</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>EreRi Collection [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1924687</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. twilight – i</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello! This is my first published multi-fic in over 5 years! With all that is going on in current canon, I have longed for a way to *keep* that canon, while establishing a sense of security, joy, and modernity that isn't currently present in the manga. To make updates easier on myself, and also just because I like the stylistic choice of this, I will be updating this fic in parts of five every chapter, each part being 250-500 words, hence the drabble sequence tag. If you prefer, read this with "entire work" toggled on. I hope you enjoy my fic!</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>alpha and omega</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <br/>
  <i>twi•light (n.)</i>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <i><strong>definition</strong> – <a href="https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/twilight">t</a>he light from the sky between full night and sunrise or between sunset and full night produced by diffusion of sunlight through the atmosphere and its dust; an intermediate state that is not clearly defined; a period of decline</i>
    <br/>
  </p>
</blockquote><br/></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><b>   S</b>ilence creeps into the scene slowly, masking sounds of blood-curdling scream and explosive pulse. It crawls the devastation and leaves behind an eerie, paralyzing ring in their eardrums. The sound of silence is surrender. It wallows around deep within their souls and devours them up whole until there is nothing left to feel.<br/>
<br/>
The temperature drops below freezing, well below natural, and milky film takes over their eyes. Still like the damned, mundane and hollow. The ghastly behemoths innumerable before them shrink to dust and sour the sky a terrible violet. Ash falls and covers their beings, like old toys abandoned on a shelf. They have no escape, no thought of one, therefore no reaction when a cold, blinding light sweeps the entire area and takes them away, one by one. </p><p>And there is nothing he can do about it.<br/>
<br/>
Feeling starts to escape his hands, along with the last bits of consciousness he was clinging to at the back of his mind. Flesh fragments at his arms, then legs, until there is nothing left to strap him to the beast.<br/>
<br/>
And so he falls.<br/>
<br/>
Off his destructive cloud nine, back into the darkness he was born apart. Into the swarming infernal that awaits its last meal.<br/>
<br/>
Was there a purpose to all of this? Did it really have to happen this way? Did he save them? Does it matter anymore? As his heart ejects inside the blackness, as his breath is taken away, as his mind incinerates into gore and cinder, he wishes— no, hopes— that somehow, someway, he made the right choice after all. Blushed eyes stare into the nothing, and it stares right back, foreboding and full of scorn, almost as if it’s mocking the tears that have the audacity to well and fly into the empty space around them.<br/>
<br/>
Before the void takes all that is left of him, aware of nothing else, he hears a voice. It calls to him, hot and heavy upon his ear.<br/>
<br/>
<em>See you later, Eren.</em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. twilight – ii</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><b>   T</b>he month's first snow christens the ground, crystalline powder fleeting about the atmosphere and dusting the ground in sweet layers. The air is stiff around the body, and crisp upon the nose and tongue, one’s breath clearly seen amid the muteness that is winter’s dead. Tossing the limb of the red knitwork behind his back, a man makes his way into a large, iron-framed cedar gate, up a small flight of stone stairs, and stark before an archway door. The chill that’s frost over the surface thaws with every huff of his breath, making it clear enough to see a silhouette approaching the glass. Warmth and velvet touch welcome him inside, the smell of fresh roast coffee wafting past their noses as she reaches up and softly brushes his lips with her own.<br/><br/>She tugs him gently by the extra of his scarf. “Come on. You’ll catch a cold.”</p><p>She takes his coat and outer clothes as he sheds his shoes. His hand is then taken and he is lead through the foyer, through the main hall, finally into the kitchen where she goes behind the bar, and he sits on a stool infront. She begins to speak of news on the development across the border, news on the war, about trinkets to be bought for celebration, and new recipes she'd taught herself during his time away at work.</p><p>He watches as she balances on the tips of her toes in order to get a dish down from the cupboard. Reminds him to make a mental note of helping her rearrange for easier access. Reminds him how much he loves the sight of her apron hoisting up whenever she moves, loves the peak of bare thigh whenever he is graced.<br/><br/>The house is still, but in its largeness this feeling isn’t hard to come by. Still yet perfectly content. Slender palms pass him a hot cup, fingers lingering on each other during the exchange. She smiles at him, browns eyes soft, the multi-coloured lights blurred in their peripherals bouncing off her pale skin.<br/><br/>He opens his mouth just to shut it back up, heart rate escaping into his skull and grip weaning from his mug. Shouting can be heard across the house, echoing off the walls, incoherent and drunk on fear. Their heads turn to the young woman in the doorway who is pointing frantically at the pair barging into frame. They have a man in tow, deadweight and lifeless.<br/><br/>"He passed out! He passed out! He’s not breathing!”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. twilight – iii</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><b>   I</b>t’s practically his hospital. He knows every route, corner, and turn. Yet, as he’s rushing through the hallway doors, nervous hands on the gurney and glasses falling halfway off his face, it’s like he has no idea where he’s going. Panic overrides sense this time; he is in the dark with every next step.<br/><br/>“We’ll take him from here, sir.”<br/><br/>That’s all he’s told, and his jog turns into a trot, and his trot into two steps, before he comes to a halt as the medic team rush into the emergency center. He tries to catch his breath, tries to make sense of this. Recollect and calm down.<br/><br/><em>“What do you mean he’s not breathing?”<br/><br/></em>Logic evades him as he finds his way to the waiting area, sadness awaiting him with a magnetic pull. She sits mouse before him, demeanor small like a lost child. Long legs tilt together, head low, all of her emotion drifting into the air, blue like evening smoke over the hills.<br/><br/>“Carla…”<br/><br/>“Grisha…” A long breathy sigh escapes her, expression muddied with clear discontentment as he seats himself beside her. She stares into her lap, silent as her husband slips his hand into hers. His thumb massages over her knuckles, teasing the band of her wedding ring.</p><p>He watches uncertainty swim within the gentleness of eyes. It comes as natural as her maternal instinct. There to stay and unmoving until she gets reason to feel better. A picture he has grown used to over the years of child-rearing and adulthood. Through the good and the bad, she was always there, her emotions run calm and her heart rendered sank. <br/><br/>“He’ll be okay.” He whispers into the shell of her ear, nuzzling his nose into her crown before sighing deep.<br/><br/>“He always is.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. twilight – iv</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><b>   T</b>here are four rooms within the corridor and two points of entry.<br/><br/>The first door to the west is made of pure gold, inside empty save a dome-shaped window high on the northern wall, a passage for the warm sunlight that pours into the darkness, revealing shadows that move on the partitions yet no responsible figures in sight.<br/><br/>The second door is of old, rotted oak that's greened from wild moss, and overtaken by ivy and fern. There is no knob; through the hole where one should reveal leaves dancing inside, fluttering past glass that lay scattered on the adobe paving from a broken ceiling.<br/><br/>The first in the east is shrouded in crimson red, fingerprints on the doorframe, and splatters along the baseboard. Standing closely enough, cries can be heard, shrill, and ear-shattering, distracting from the blood that pools from up under the vent.<br/><br/>Its neighbor is easily missed. No lighting, or colour. Black as the midnight sky, knocker and all. It's locked up with rusted chain, an awful warning with a ghastly presence that surrounds the area and repeals whatever passes by.<br/><br/>The exit, similar to the entrance, which is no longer behind him, is a passageway. There is no door, just murky white illuminating at the end. He runs as fast as he can, hears doors swing open behind him, a force trying to pull him in. But he keeps running, and the light at the end of the tunnel crawls further and further away. Something breaks his run; he falls into the floor, the boarding swallowing him whole. <br/><br/>Around him is a liquid, dense like swamp water but surely light enough to carry his screams to the surface. His thoughts lay abate, haunted in the throes of turmoil. Like a babe overdue in the womb. The eye of the storm circles him slowly, like a shiver waiting for the right moment to feed.<br/><br/>He opens his eyes to see… himself, no, who he <em>used</em> to be, vacant and deformed. Skin is cracked all over its surface, eye sockets like two black holes; lips peeled away by maggot and leech. No limbs, its torso broke open exposing a lack of organs, hollow and sully.  An abandoned marionette: defective, forgotten. The longer he stares the more he feels himself being sucked in. He sees stars and nebulae, putting the creature together piece by piece with strange, extramundane energy; ominous it coils around a birthing superficial luminescence, pulling in tighter and tighter until heat builds, intensifies, and becomes far too much to handle.<br/><br/>Try as he might to pull back the current keeps him trapped, stranded, a sacrifice to the monster that he never wanted to become, forcibly surrendered lifeless as it rips his heart straight out from within his chest, eyes aglow as he finally sinks below into the trenches.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. twilight – v</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><b>   T</b>hree fortnight pass, the moon having shined full many times over, and any hope they still had begins to melt away like the snow that struggles to stay on the ground past dawn. There have been distractions, birthdays, new relationships, and farewells, and within that time yet another fortnight has passed, and push has come to shove whether they embrace it or not. The night has come to claim the sun, and the mountains in the east shade heather as the sun settles behind them, painting the land in an orange haze, softly adorn with shadow.<br/><br/>Smaller, pale hands envelope over his much larger ones, trembling as they trace the line of his veins <br/><br/>“It’s the first day of spring tomorrow… that means your birthday is coming up.”<br/><br/>He lay silent, the voice registering only in part.<br/><br/>“You have to wake up, okay? They’ve been talking about...”<br/><br/>She drifts off into semantics, struggles over words, never gets to the point. What she means is not what she says. What she knows is that they want to cut life support within two weeks if there is no improvement. This is not what she says. Instead, she cries. Cries about life and death, all that they take for granted. She cries herself into a sorrowful slumber, weary from all that she alone cannot change. The night falls over the building, moonlight shines over the vase of yellow flowers on the bedside table. Moonlight transitions back to shy sunlight, youthfully peaking out from the west.<br/><br/>05:59 am<br/><br/><em>Wake up, Eren.<br/><br/></em>A streak of sunlight beams onto his wristband and crawls onto his knuckle. His hand begins to relax as the energy is absorbed into his skin, leaving his arm decorated in a soft glow.<br/><br/><em>Wake up.<br/><br/></em>A spark ignites, and his blood rushes to a boil as steam builds within his chest. His mind at top speed like a clock spinning through lost time without direction. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice screams for mercy, but at the very core of his being, he is not merciful, and this world is not fair. <br/><br/>Eyes break open, voicelessly choking on a gasp. Pupils small and quaking, the imagery of the room rushing in like a vision through a kaleidoscope. He shoots into a seated position. A small beep triggers his attention.<br/><br/>6:00 am<br/><br/>“What?” His breathing labours, heaves as nails dig into his flesh and a palm slaps flush against his breast. A heartbeat. Pulse. Sweat begins to bead every bit of his skin, the gut-wrenching realization settling in. He’s alive. And he’s not alone. There’s someone next to him. Their eyes meet; a tremble climbs his spine, forcing out tears he didn’t realize he had to shed. He’s frozen as arms toss around him, petting his hair. He can feel wetness seep into the shoulder of his hospital gown and his eyes stare to the ceiling as he waits for feeling to surface in his body.<br/><br/>“Oh, you’re awake! I’m so glad you’re awake.”<br/><br/>“...Mom?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>It will take us a few chapters to get to any ship interactions. Thank you if you are reading! ♥</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If you liked it, let me know with a comment!</p><p>Find me on <a href="https://twitter.com/personwrites">Twitter.</a> ♥</p></blockquote></div></div>
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